A Moment in the Sun
by Erendis Black
Summary: There is something rather special about sitting in the sun, wintertime, feeling both cold and warm... Riku enjoys a moment in the sun. Or tries to. [RikuSora, AU]


**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Kingdom Hearts _nor any of the characters featured therein. I just borrow them for my personal recreation and, hopefully, yours. Now, if I _did_ own them, I'd be a very happy fangirl.

**Warnings:** Shounen-ai. Short one-shot. Written in second person. Mindless fluff. Lots of sunlight and random encounters.

**Notes:** Just because I know things can get confusing, this is Riku's POV, but I hope you can recognise who he meets. :)

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There is something rather special about sitting in the sun, wintertime, feeling both cold and warm, knowing that life is good just about now; there might be a ton of things in your mind, but at the moment, you're happy, because you can feel the sun on your skin and you have to scrunch up your face to keep the searing light from hurting your eyes.

The chilly breeze plays with your hair and the dampness of the stone step you're sitting on is going through your clothes, yet you lean back on the wall behind you and stay there; your little spot in the sun is just perfect as it is.

Of course, human life is ephemeral and made of very complex things that are rather ephemeral as well, so your time of sunlight-induced euphoria comes to an abrupt end, much too quickly.

"Hey there!"

The voice breaks through the warm glow surrounding you; you have to open your eyes and steer yourself back to reality. One eye cracks open, hidden under silvery bangs. Your pupil is not pleased to have that stream of sunshine hit it directly and the eyelid comes down again.

"What?" you drawl lazily, frankly caring very little about the voice and whatever it may want from you.

"Think you can give me a hand here? My chain is too loose and I've gotta adjust it or I won't be able to ride back, and I really have to because my friend lent me the bike and he's really touchy with his stuff, ya know? But I can't do it by myself, so if you think you could hold on the bike for a sec, I—"

You quickly tune out the excited warble; it's really unimportant. So the guy wants you to help him, that's cool, but why does he have to tell you his life story? You draw a long breath; the wintry air enters your lungs like it means to hurt you, but it helps you shake off the drowsiness that comes with sitting in the sun for a while.

Sitting up straighter, you open your eyes again and try to bring them to focus on the sketchy figure tinkering with a bike at the foot of the stairs. From your privileged position you look down and find him looking up at you, expectantly, so you get quickly to your feet and stretch. Yeah, you'll help, the gesture says, but on your own sweet time. After all, you were really happy and at peace with the world and this chirpy stranger has just shattered your blissful moment in the sun.

Ah well, sucks to be you anyway, so what's more thing gonna do? You slowly move out of the sun; the massive library building behind you blocks all sunlight. Really, that one spot you had was perfect. The world suddenly seems gray and dreary, even with all the green of the park surrounding you; you can only see the sad, gray color of the stone stairs. But getting depressed now is not going to cut it; there was a reason you got up, wasn't there?

Yeah, the reason is still fiddling with his borrowed bike and muttering softly under his breath. You slide down the steps, trying to put a brave face at the chilly feeling you get in the shade, and peer down at the guy. This one looks sort of funny, like the wind got really, really mad at his hair at some point in his life and now it's forever like that, sticking up in all the weird places.

"So what do you want me to do?" You ask, cocking your head to the side and waiting for him to notice that it was really a big effort you did, when you left the sunspot to aid him. Which it was, but he doesn't notice.

The guy looks up from his crouching position on the other side of the bike and offers you a face-shattering grin. Ow, that's gotta hurt. You swear the guy must've sprained at least eight facial muscles.

"Oh, ah, right," he says, probably taken aback that you didn't return his muscle challenge. "I'd just need you to hold the back wheel a little above the ground, so I can adjust the chain, you know? If it were my bike back home, I'd do it without lifting it up, but this is really—oh, thanks!"

He sets to work with a mini-wrench, while you hold up the bike for him. He keeps talking and smiling, and looking up to you like you just saved him from some sort of horrible, unthinkable doom. You study him, because really, what more is there to do?

The oddly styled hair must be natural, you decide; there's no way someone would spend so much time doing their hair up in those random spikes. The grinning… well, this guy grins too much, you think, as a slight smirk twists in your lips; you ponder if he means to smile like that to complete strangers, or if it only comes naturally to him.

He yanks the chain a bit, testing it here and there, unbothered that his fingers are getting greasy. You shift your weight a bit, hoping it won't show that your fingers are cold, stiff and tired from holding the bike up. For some reason, you find yourself not wanting to show weaknesses to this guy, even as he looks like the most innocent and relaxed person in the city. Hmm, maybe it's because of that, you think, blowing hair out of your eyes.

The bike's pedals are moving and the wheels spin crazily in the air. "Done!" Your companion's upbeat mood seems to skyrocket as he waves the wrench in the air, triumphantly. You put the bike down, rolling your eyes. At least the muscles of your arms got warmer from the strain, but the rest of you is still very cold. You glance back at your sunspot and what was left of your contentedness evaporates. The earth moved, as it is its wont to do, and the stream of sunlight falls now further away, out of your reach.

"Hey," the bike-guy calls and you turn to him, wondering if the death-glare will actually kill him. Well, deep down, you hope it won't. There's something about the guy… yeah, something you can't pinpoint.

"Yeah?"

He smiles at you, not the all-time-on grin, but a toned down smile. "There's a bench in the sun, right there," he points across the park with a half-gloved finger. "We can sit there for a while and warm up."

'We'? Your mind echoes, as you blink. You're sure you're gaping dumbly at the guy and he won't find that appealing. Not that you care, but anyway, what's with the 'we'?

"Come on!" Mr. Grin-a-lot has gotten a hold of your wrist and he's dragging you with him, same way as he's dragging the bike. Waitaminute! You don't get dragged anywhere by random strangers with mad hair. In any case, you -and only you- decide to _follow_ random strangers with mad hair.

That's right. You follow the guy to the bench at a leisure pace. He chuckles at your resistance, but doesn't let go of your wrist until you're both seated on the oh so warm wooden bench. Again, you feel at peace with the world. Sunlight has that calming effect on you, so you quickly relax, enjoying the muted, far away sounds that stream around you. The whisper of the leaves, children somewhere, dogs, birds, the occasional passerby and the noisy friction of their roller-blades. Actually, it'd be hell to you if it weren't for the sun. Sunshine makes you forget about the world. But of course, the world exists. And there are people in it. Particularly, one person. Sitting next to you. Talking his head off.

At first, it bothers you and you feel ready to get up and go, but eventually you start to listen to what he's saying, out of boredom, you suppose. He is telling you about a friend and why did he borrow the bike from him, he's laughing about some girl's antics and he's thanking you for your previous help.

You nod, mouth some quiet replies, pay more attention to him, but really… is he never going to shut up? He's looking at you now, asking stuff with the same openness and lack of respite as he spoke about himself, so you try to answer some things, but you'd rather look at him in silence. You find yourself awed, to some extent, to discover that his particular shade of blue can really exist in the human eye spectrum.  
You want to consider this matter more carefully, but he moves too much as he speaks; his hands gesture grandly, his head sways, his eyes crinkle. You lean in for a closer inspection.

Your companion stops mid-speech and tilts back his head. A hand comes up unexpectedly, and tugs at a strand of your hair. "Were you even listening to me?" he asks playfully.

"Not really," you reply in all honesty. "I just wanted to get something out of the way."

Blue-eyes looks interested. "What's that?" His face is relaxed; he's not grinning nor smiling madly, just a soft expression: mingle of curiosity and… Something. Something you really like, all of a sudden.

You lean forward, on impulse, and press your lips to his. Your gut feeling hasn't misled you, for he presses back instead of withdrawing. A cloud must've moved over the sun, and your eyes see the change of lighting, but that's all. Your body temperature has been rising steadily for the past thirty seconds. Thirty seconds that suddenly equal a lifetime in the sun.

You move your head back, just a bit, so your eyes can take in all of the other's face. You can't help it, a smile ghosts on your lips when his eyes lock on yours, briefly, and he gapes at you, speechless for the first time since you met him.

Something in the pit of your stomach does a pleased flip-flop and the back of your brain is humming. You surprisingly found something you had been wanting. A portable ray of sunlight. Sunlight to bask on wherever you are, whenever you want.

Funny, you think, as he blushes, half laughing, half spluttering, you don't even know his name.

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End file.
